Dazzle
by princess.hitokiri
Summary: [SasuSaku, AU] She, is the the ambitious young model running away from a past where she is to live forever in her older sister's shadow. He is the lost young man, who brings backs a relic from her past but has his own tragic history yet to be discovered.


My third attempt at writing a multi-chapter story, and first actual published story, constructive criticism welcomed with open arms and virtual butter scones!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto.

When I was young, my mother us read me a story about a kind little girl, and her wicked stepsister. We sat curled up against her sides on the couch and she read the book aloud to us. I was eating cookies, even though I had already brushed my teeth.

The kind girl in the story was very beautiful. Because she was an orphan, her stepmother was very cruel and made her draw water from a well that was very far away. One day, she met a thirsty old lady at the well. The kind, beautiful girl gave her a drink of water. In return, the fairy blessed the girl, and when she spoke, pearls and diamonds and roses dropped from her lips. The stepsister was very jealous and wanted to have the same gift, so she could be as pretty as the kind and beautiful girl. However, when she went to the well, she was rude to the fairy and in return, frogs and toads dropped from her mouth when she spoke. When the wicked stepsister came home, she complained to her mother, and the beautiful and kind girl was banished from her home. She went to cry at the well and prince found her immediately fell in love. They lived happily ever after, except for the stepsister who went to a corner of the forest and died there.

My mother told us that both of us were like the beautiful and kind girl, and our words were so sweet that diamonds and roses and pearls would fall out to her when we spoke. But I knew it wasn't true. For I was the wicked stepsister, and from my mouth, ugly words sprouted and I was not as pure and innocent as my sister Setsuko. I too, wanted to be beautiful, as Setsuko was. I was not pure or innocent- my thoughts tainted by ambition, spite and the need for recognition and power. My mother kissed the top of my head, and I forgot about the story for a long time.

* * *

I opened my eyes. They are dusted with turquoise glitter. I tell Sai, turquoise is not my color. It's not; it clashes too strongly with my hair color. We are getting ready for a show; it is Fashion Week at Konohagakure. Sai tells me, "The whole point of this year's show is clash; at least you don't have to dye your hair, Sakura, like some of the other girls." He is right; my hair draws attention like no other.

The first time I went to a modeling agency, they took one glance at my hair, raised their eyebrows, and then told me I was to short and they needed to know my natural color. I said that this was my natural hair color. Then they asked me if I knew the model Setsuko. I nodded benignly, and tried to contain my fury. Was I to be forever overshadowed by my prettier, taller, more compassionate older sister, like I had always been? Instead, we moved on. I regained my composure.

The lady asked me, "Why do you wish to join the world of fashion? It's a very rough business."

"Because I am ambitious, hard working, and willing put a lot of effort to correctly represent my client. I also believe that I have very striking looks, which will be able to take me far in the modeling world." The words could not lie—but the sentences could.

"Can you give me a couple of faces? I'd like to see laughing or happy first."

I had practiced in front of a mirror before hand. I contort my face to give her the best smiling face I could- I took it from a make up ad for a fresh natural look. Imitation was a great asset of mine.

"Can I see a seductive look?"

This one I took from a clothing ad. I tried to copy the expression of a lingerie model. My visage twists and changes.

"Let's see a tragic, sad look."

This one I could pull without practicing. Setsuko and I had argued innumerable times- I had tried the look many times on my mother and my sister, although my sister always won the argument. The lady scribbled in her notepad, quite pleased. I had won her over.

"And we'll wrap it up with a defiant, fierce look."

I almost smiled in spite of myself, and pull a well used defiant look- a look my mother saw one too many times.

"Now can I see your walk? I'm pretty sure you'll be able to make it as a catwalk model, even though you're a bit short. We'll be happy to represent you, of course."

I do the indifferent, jaunty walk my sister showed me innumerable times. The walk that had made me burn so strongly of envy. I do not simmer with jealousy. I blaze. The fire feeds my ambition.

She inspects my face, praises my cheekbone and eyes, telling me my hair will be a stand out. She looks at my body shots, head shots and glamour shots. She doesn't notice the paper's quality isn't as thick as they would be if they had been done professionally. Mine were done with a color printer and a borrowed camera.

She admires me. Nothing stands out way too much, such as a mole or such but nothing lets me blend into the background. She praises my false elegance.

She says, "We'll be pleased to represent you."

I hope her words are true.

We shake hands, smile at each other, and I leave.

* * *

Two weeks later, I spoke to the same woman on the phone; her name was Shizune. She told me that they've already managed to secure a gig for me, and that I would be employed as a catwalk model in two upcoming shows during fashion week. She also said that she would like to see me face to face, since she would be my mentor. "It's a bit odd, of course, me being the person you were interviewed by, but of course we'll get along famously." I felt her smiling, even though I couldn't see her face. So once again, I found myself in the same chair I had sat in only two weeks ago.

In a month between the interview and the show, I had yelled at my mother, told her I was never coming home again.

Yes, I put up with her mewing. She had called me on my cell phone on my way to the modeling agency.

"No, Mother, I'm going to make it big. I'm on my way to the agency."

"You can't, what about your education, I thought you were going to be a doctor-"

"But Mother, this is a perfectly legal profession."

"No you can't! I'm coming to take you home!"

"You're going to ruin all my chances- you don't understand! You've always let Setsuko do whatever you want. I don't care! You've always loved her better, it's always been Setsuko-this, Setsuko that, you've never understood how I've felt!"

"I am coming to get you home, and that is that! You hear me! You're-"

"I don't care! I have all my stuff with me and I'm going to find somewhere to stay and I have money and-"

"You. Are. Coming. Home."

"No I'm not, I've always been Ms. Perfect, I'm sick and tired, and you've always like her better then me and I have my stuff already anyway! I'm never coming home again!"

"YOU LISTEN TO ME AND DON'T YOU MENTION SETSUK-"

"I DON'T CARE! You've always liked me the least! I'm never coming home again! Just don't wreck Naomi's life like you did mine! I'm leaving." Slam down the phone, run away in tears, and throw my scattered memories down the trash bin.

I had tried to reason with my father, and that no, I wasn't turning into another Setsuko.

I had called him. He would understand, I had thought.

"Dad?"

"Sakura, you're mother's terribly angry, you should come home right now."

"Dad, I'm going to become a model."

"You do that and come straight—model? Now you're just jealous of Setsuko aren't you, always been. So are you coming home or not?"

"No. I have money and everything."

"Well, be care full and don't sleep around, you're a model not a prostitute and I don't want another Setsuko."

"Alright, Dad."

"Now, make sure there aren't any strange men asking to let them take photographs and I want you-" I hung up. Didn't want to listen. I though about calling back and saying I love you though. I picked up the phone. But I called Naomi's cell phone instead.

I had told my younger sister that I was going to leave, and she could have the twin bed. (Setsuko, I and my younger sister Naomi alternated between a set of small bunch beds and a single large twin bed. We naturally preferred the single.)

"Naomi?"

"Sakura? Dad and Mother are really mad you better come back. I don't know why though, but you should come back home."

"Naomi?"

"Yeah? You should really come home. They're goi-"

"I'm not coming home. You can have the twin bed."

"Don't say that! What will-"

"I love you. Bye."

She said I love you a moment after I hung up.

I had told my best friend Ino that I was going to join her in the fashion industry. Ino had already made it big, although she was a hair and hand model. They told her she was too heavy on top to be a catwalk model, and her looks were too ordinary, too tame, and too golden girl too be a booty girl or a lingerie model at the moment. The wanted loud, they wanted big, they wanted sultry. Ino looked too golden for that, and went to model various pieces of jewelry and hair styles for magazine ads. I told Ino that I was a runway model, and I listened to her steam.

"What?"

"Yeah I am."

"No way."

"I'm going to be a catwalk model."

"But! You're too short and you're a little fat and you don't look good in orange and my legs are longer! I'm prettier and… ARGGH! God forehead girl, I can't believe you…"

I listened to her rant, bid a goodbye and dialed Lee.

I had told my almost-boyfriend-but-not-quite that we were over even though we weren't a couple in the first place, and I had made it finally, and that I would never see him again, although he would see me- in various magazines and periodicals.

"Hi, this is Rock Lee! I'm out training under Gai-sensei and honing the powers of youth! Only will hard work allow one to achieve the bloom of youth! Leave a message, I shall address you later."

"Hi Lee, its Sakura. I'm leaving town and never coming back, so just telling you I guess I think we're over…ummm…I think… I don't think we were in the first place? Uum… yeah? So bye and good job with your training and I guess you'll she me in some magazines? Ummm… yeah… bye."

It was very awkward.

I wanted to tell Setsuko that know I was never going to be known as the perfect girl's less flawless sister, although I would always dwell in her shadow.

I wanted to laugh in her face, to point to jeer.

I wanted.

I told Shizune, yes, I will take this job. And in two weeks of time, I found myself in a different chair. I found myself with someone else holding the mascara wand this time.

I had found myself a future.

Shizune improved my walk, she helped me lose the pudgy baby fat that clung to my arms through a cleanse—even though it was miserable only drinking fruit and vegetable juices for a week and she told me that I would reach the top. She knew. I aced the first show, and got a second.

The second fashion show(which was the one with the clash and the turquoise eye shadow) was my future unraveling myself. It was a more important, the designer being more famous and all and this being his resort collection. Sai was right; the whole show was about clash. I made sure the shirtdress was not crooked- it was one of the best pieces in the show. It was used the Hyuuga Fashion House's latest new cobalt blue and crimson color lace pattern, and the shirt dress was cinched of with a patent leather belt. What made it different were the interesting way the dress ended and the collar, which was simple and elegant. On my neck, I wore a necklace with Hyuuga motif- the character 'towards'.

"You look wonderful." I turn around. I was Hiazashi Hyuuga himself—the designer himself. Not his helper. Not his subordinate. "I think this piece will be the star the star of the show, don't you agree? It fits, of course?"

He isn't talking to me- he's talking to a tall younger version of himself. His son, I suppose? "Yes, uncle. I think there needs to be a little more color in her cheeks though, and she's a bit short. Why are you letting her wear one of the most important pieces in the show?"

The elder Hyuuga turns to me. "You tell him why." Me?

I fumble a bit, but I regain my composure. "Because—um--- because… my hair color's natural, my eyes are striking and overall the effect is quite pleasing. Besides, I can model any style without having to dye my hair or wear color contacts. And this waist is a bid loose, even with the belt." Even though the waist is only a bit loose, I see that he younger Hyuuga is obviously the one that will make alternations.

I can model any style with the elegance of a tiger; I can tear up any opponent as the same tiger.

The younger sniffs, while the older smiles. "That's the spirit. Neji, I want you too make the waist tighter. You've got the thread. Now get up there, and I want to see a full review page length in the Konoha Review Style and Living section tomorrow detailing my triumphs in this year's resort wear."

Neji glares in hatred. I take of the belt. With animosity, he bends down, pulls the back of the shirtdress and stitches it. It's so tight; my windpipe starts to feel constricted by the silk fabric. But no worry; this causes everyone to marvel my impossibly small waist.

Haruno, one.

Hyuuga (the younger), zero.

A photographer grabs another model and all four of us join in a picture- The elder Hyuuga, the younger, I and the other model. The eldest beams at me.

I nod, give my best smile, and know I have just gained the favor of the head of one of the most powerful fashion houses in the world. I proceed to the runway, at the direction of the stage manager and try to regain the empty indifferent feeling that would let me shine on the catwalk.

My apathy is regular for a model put it separates me from the audience. I float above their gaze.

I wear the signature piece.

As I walked down the catwalk, I heard the flash bulbs going off, and the rapid superlatives sprouting from the mouth of the critics. This time I was the star of the show. But I did not take heed, or notice- I stuck myself in my perfect bubble, where I was on the cover of Fête and Au Courant and Image and other fashion magazines; I was the next big thing; I was going to be the face of the period. And nothing could pop my bubble, as I changed another important piece, a feathery cocktail dress, which was a shade of green so bright it had a raunchy elegance.

The show was exciting, fast, and different from the usual reserved style of the Hyuuga fashion house.

The show was exciting because of the new designs from the new head of the fashion house.

The show was fast because of the quick techno beat from the speakers, and of the girl who was going to make it big after only a couple of shows.

The show was different because two years ago, a Haruno had walked this runway. Now another Haruno was going to steal her legacy.

False confidence and self swindling can really take you far.

In the grand finale, all 17 came in plastic mini dresses, the only variation from each dress color. We had taken a powerful punch into the fashion world, but everyone knew the girl with the bright pink hair- there was only one- was off to a fabulous career.

She changed, and went to the after show—this year, I was invited, because Hyuuga. He knew it would be wise to showcase the star of his show at the after party. He knew she would be off to be a fashion icon herself, and it would be kind of him to give her a little boost.

And she would be forever grateful and might just be his new cover girl for the new season.

And he should really send her an invitation.

I got ready in a dress that Hyuuga had let me keep. "It's not going to be in the show anyway, it'll look rather good on you," and I went straight from the runway to the party.

And everyone at the after party raved that the new Hyuuga resort collection was creative and ingenious, my dress was gorgeous, and I was fashion's newest biggest star.

"You were marvelous! I don't think noticed anyone but you-"

"You'll make it big, I know you will-"

"Such a delicate visage you possess-"

"You'll go far in the world of fashion-"

"That thin waist will take you far-"

No one mention a certain older sister.

I was happy.

I smiled for dozens of pictures.

I laughed with dozens of people.

I gave my number and my website to who knows how many.

I drank maybe one too many cocktail.

So laughed and smiled and drank, until a certain dark haired man approached me.

"Hello."

"Hi, I'm Sakura Haruno and you are…?"

"Sasuke Uchiha."

"Oh Sasuke Uchiha. I think I've heard of you somewhere haven't I?" God, he was gorgeous.

"I'm a columnist. I'm also a poet."

"Oh, that great." A poet? Really? I like poetry for a while until I found out I sucked at rhyming.

"You should know. Sakura Haruno, fledgling model."

"Sakura?"

"Yes?"

"I know about Setsuko."

"Who is Setsuko? Setsuko? Oh my god you-" I threw my drink at him.

**A/N:** End of first chapter/prologue thing. I didn't think that it would be good enough to be a chapter though. I also kind of fumbled with the past/present tense, so technically it's a first chapter. I don't really give. But the whole story really starts after the second divider. The head designer dude is supposed to be Hinata's dad, not Neji's, I forgot his name (Yuppers, stupid me). I think I have a picture of Sakura's shirtdress somewhere; I drew it for my summer arts program. I dunno where I put it though.

I don't really know how fashion shows work either. Woot! Go me for my utter uninformed -ness!

I also used part of the kanji for the word Hyuuga as the logo—I hope I was correct.

Oh well. Now make my day and press the review button, shall we?


End file.
